


Tom

by Entropy House (AnonEhouse)



Category: Drake's Venture
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Heroic Feline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:46:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Entropy%20House
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're being persecuted by a sea-dog, sometimes the ship's cat is your best friend. At least, Thomas Doughty found it so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tom

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

They have tied the quiet one to the mast today. This is confusing. It's not as if he was a big, barking dog. I finish my business in the hold and come up on a deck for some fresh night air. Admittedly, the air would be fresher if the crew washed more often and used only one pissing place. The quiet one at least tries to keep clean.

I check out his ankles, which are rather smelly. He needs new boots, perhaps. He flinches at first when he feels my touch. He can't look down to see me because of the ropes about his chest. Perhaps he thinks I am a rat. I tell him who I am and he relaxes, and begins talking to me. 

He is grateful for the company, and the chance to organize his thoughts aloud. The steersman is far enough away not to overhear his soft words, or my quiet encouraging voice. He cannot understand why his friend has beaten him and tied him, and threatens his life. I climb the mast so that I can murmur comfortingly into his ear. I remember when I was hungry because the weather was too poor for me to hunt, he shared his food with me. 

I curl around his neck and sniff his beard. He laughs softly. The night is turning chill, and he is warm. I settle in and close my eyes. I am awakened abruptly, only realizing that I have lashed out in instinctive attack after I wake and hear a crewman cursing and complaining about his slashed knuckles. He sounds frightened. Good. I have a long memory. That man once kicked me deliberately.

The leader comes out and roars, but I sense that he's frightened as well. The wounded crewman shows his knuckles and babbles about unseen demons. I grin to myself and sink deeper into the ruff around my friend's neck. My fur is patchy grey and white and blends in very well, especially by lamplight. I am comfortable, and do not wish to leave my friend. Besides, there are so many men rushing about the deck, I'm liable to get my tail trodden upon if I jump down. I hiss and strike out when the leader comes close. I don't like him; he's loud.

There are more shouts and cries of demons and witchcraft. I've heard that before. Friends of mine have died when people shouted like that. I scream my battle cry; they will not find me easy to kill. The men leap back, frightened even more. The smell of their fear is sharp.

There is a struggle and the quiet one's brother (he smells like him, so I know they are of the same litter) breaks free and comes to us, cutting the quiet one loose of the mast. There are shouts and threats, but the fear smell is even stronger. They want us to leave their territory.

A boat is lowered over the side, and supplies put in it. The quiet one, his brother, and I leave. It's good that it's dark. They can't shoot at us. The wind takes the ship away from us, and I leave my friend's shoulder, to sit on a bag of flour. I yawn and wash, and then I sniff the air. 

It takes a few minutes to make the quiet one understand that I scent land. Once I am assured that he and his brother are rowing in the proper direction, I curl up for a nap.

It's been a busy night.


End file.
